


Knocked Down, Made Small

by ajremix



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Trauma, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len's life had never been easy but bit by bit, through hard work and the right people, it's gotten a little better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Even at thirteen he should've known better than to trust his father's sudden interest, giving him puzzles to solve before gradually upgrading to DIY kits. But little Leo was still young enough to think it was a good thing, too naive to realize just what 'clever little fingers' meant when it was one of the few praises Lewis had ever given him.

Nor did he realize it when Lewis gave him the same box to disassemble for a week, over and over again until Lewis promised to treat him to some ice cream after his next job. That raised a flag in Leo's head, but Leo did it anyway. He didn't make the connection between what he was doing, the upcoming job and the fact no one wanted to hire a convicted ex-cop until some time between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning when Leo was bundled out of bed and into a car. Leo didn't know what he was doing with all the wires but he knew he was helping his dad commit a crime and when, while making their getaway, Lewis grinned at him and said, "Good work," Leo didn't know if that was a bad thing.

It didn't last. The good parts never did. The harder Leo worked to please his father, teaching himself electrical wiring and security systems, the more often Lewis brought him to jobs and the more critical he got. The more he was determined to beat lessons into Leo. The money Leo never got to see seemed to evaporate, one or both parents taking off for a day or two and coming back with nothing and Leo eventually stopped going to school because he kept finding no one in the house but his baby sister, barely able to toddle around on her own.

He preferred those days to either parent being home. Leanne would yell at them for the state of the house, of themselves, saying how furious Lewis would be when he saw how filthy everything was. Never mind that she was the one that always came back with dirty clothes and tangled hair, reeking of twenty different things and barely able to stand. She'd call them worthless and weep because she'd be beaten, wondering why she kept coming back. With Lewis it didn't matter who was there- Leo or Leanne, he'd scream at them for any little thing and when he got tired of screaming, he'd start swinging.

Leo stopped protecting his mom when she started trying to push blame and Lewis's anger onto him. The only thing he cared about was making sure he didn't take it out on Lisa. He would do his best to sneak into the attic, scrunched up behind boxes, cupping a hand over one of Lisa's ears and singing silly children's song in the other, trying to drown out the shouting below them.

It went on like that for years until Lewis was caught, yet again, in the middle of a heist. He'd been the only one left at the crime scene and he sold out the rest of his crew for a reduced sentence but it still left him locked away for two years. At first Leanne cried over being left to raise two children she barely bothered to look at anymore. Then she celebrated because, for a while at least, she no longer had to step on eggshells, no longer had a husband drinking and gambling away money she could be drinking and gambling away.

Then, one day, Leanne never came back.

When Leo realized that he found most of her drawers had been emptied and a suitcase from the attic was gone. The two were completely alone. Leo had never felt so relieved in his life. He walked the empty house, a five-year-old Lisa against his hip, trying to take in this sudden, utter freedom.

"Leo," she murmured into his neck, "'m hungry."

"Alright. I'll make us something." As he went into the kitchen, he gave Lisa a little jostle. "Hey, Lise?"

"Hm?"

"Call me Len, okay?"

He put her on the counter where she scrunched her nose at him. "Will you make pancakes?"

"Sure."

"'Kay, Lenny."

~*~*~*~

Len had learned more in those two years taking care of the two of them than any other time. He learned to forge signatures to keep bills paid, learned to budget money to keep them both fed regularly, learned the best places to break into for some easy cash and how often he could get away with hitting them before things got too tight. He learned how fear- true fear, not the pain and intimidation Lewis used on him -was a powerful motivator, the idea of getting caught and leaving Lisa all on her own making him go over his plans obsessively until they were perfect.

He gradually made his way into the underground- sometimes by following up some of Lewis's old connections, sometimes by stumbling on it by accident -and he'd be passed between crews like a secret. "Kid's sharp," one would say to the other, mostly not caring that he could hear them. "Teach 'im right and he'll make you a mint," then they'd leave with their finder's fee and a promise in their eyes to get him later, after he'd gotten even smarter, better, more versatile.

At least these lessons never ended with a closed fist.

One day he came home to find his father snoring, passed out on the couch and Lisa curled up in Len's bed. He had to coax her out from under the covers and into the bathroom where he helped to cover up her bruises- the one thing Leanne had taught him.

He didn't ask her what happened, if she was okay- the answers were obvious, painted on her skin -but she started crying in the silence of the overhead lights. Just wet sniffles through her nose and tears slipping one after another down her cheeks. After Len finished evening out the foundation he lowered the lid to the toilet so he could sit on it, bundling Lisa on his lap where he stroked her hair and kissed her softly. He'd forgotten when Lewis was being released. "I'm sorry."

She curled against his chest like she was trying to hide.

That night, after Lisa had gone to sleep, after she'd extracted a promise from Len not to leave her and making sure Lewis was still passed out drunk, Len slipped out of the house to find out what it would take to get Lisa into an ice skating camp.

~*~*~*~

Every day after Lewis came back nearly sent Len into a panic attack. He'd just barely been able to scrounge up the money and sign Lisa up in time for the camp but the actual date she'd go was still months away. He told her, one bright early morning before school, walking her to her bus stop, that he would pick her up. Never mind that he didn't have a car, let alone a driver's license but he made her promise, no matter what, that he would pick her up and take her home every day.

"If I'm not there when the buses leave, find some reason to stay at school," he told her and Lisa stared nervously because Len had never been so intense before. "Don't go home by yourself and make sure no one calls Dad to pick you up. Okay? Can you promise me?"

"...okay, Lenny."

His mornings were packed with errands for their father, trying to keep him pleased. For upkeep for the house, for planning jobs. And the entire time he had a clock ticking down in the back of his brain, constantly adjusting how long it would take him to hijack a car and get to Lisa.

Often times Lewis would be gone when they got back. Len never knew when he'd return so he'd hustle Lisa up to her room and get her started her on her homework while he made something to take to her room for dinner. He'd stay with her, helping with any problems he could, talking, playing if she got too bored until he heard Lewis's shitty car growling into the driveway. He'd give Lisa a walkman he stole for her, slipping the headphones over her ears and made sure she had something to occupy herself with. Then he'd tell her, "Stay here, stay quite. I'll tuck you in later." And went to see what kind of mood Lewis was in.

Usually it was just a yelling one, sometimes if he just wanted to feel powerful Lewis would throw something in Len's direction but generally not specifically _at_ him. The usual was all flash, no substance at least in the physical sense but that didn't stop him from snarling at Len, spitting out invectives and abuse, making sure every word would dig under his skin. Once, maybe twice a week Lewis would actually come after him, watching for a vulnerable moment when Len wasn't in a position to put up a decent fight or using a weapon if he was feeling particularly... educative.

And Len took it because he had no choice. Because it was better than letting him loose on Lisa, even if he couldn't hide all the marks Lewis left on him before tucking his little sister in. Tears were in her eyes as she reached up, not quite touching the split lip or the darkening bruise against his head that was radiating a headache. "Don't worry," he promised, "you won't have to worry about him soon."

"What about you?"

He smiled as best his pain would allow. "I can take care of myself."

~*~*~*~

Two weeks after seeing Lisa off to skating camp, Len got caught. The heist had gone wrong from the start because the crew was wrong. Wouldn't work together, wouldn't listen to his plans and left him hanging when the cops came busting in because Len was too focused on completing the job instead of keeping time.

He'd never been caught before. As far as the system knew, he was a first time offender. If he played his cards right, acted the naive, repentant poor kid that got drawn into the promise of easy money, they wouldn't keep him that long.

Then he found out they ran his prints against unknowns from previous robberies, when gloves got in the way of too delicate work, and Len realized with horror that he wasn't going to be there when Lisa got back from camp. He'd left her alone with their father and that nearly sent him into a panic attack in front of the judge. He'd been locked up for almost a month before Lewis finally came visiting, teeth set more in a snarl than a smile.

Lewis's voice was low and raspy when he said, "You think you could get away from me in here, huh?"

"I wasn't trying to get away from you."

"So you're saying you're just a failure then, huh?"

Bitterness made Len snap before he could think better of it, "You'd know about failure, wouldn't you?"

The attempted paternal act vanished and Len flinched despite himself. "Guess that means I'll have to teach Lisa to be better than you."

"Don't you dare touch her."

"You're not in a position to tell me what to do, brat." Then there was a gleam in his eye, a cold calculation that Len knew wouldn't bode well for him. "But there are some people in there I want you to talk to. Get the information I want and I may play nice with your little sister."

His hands fisted, nails digging into his palms and teeth cutting at the inside of his cheek. "What do you want?"

Life in jail wasn't easy for the son of a cop despite- or perhaps compounded -by the fact he'd been a crooked one dumb enough to get caught. Len had never thought so fast, so furiously in his life, trying to find a way to insert himself innocuously into the hierarchy, fishing for the people that would be willing to protect him for what little services he could offer. But perseverance paid off. When word got out he had a way of helping the small time heads maintain their businesses out in the real world, no one wanted to mess with Len anymore. It gave him more cred and his own opportunities, allowed him the freedom to ask questions and learn, got him in the good graces of people willing to do him a solid when he got out. It also gave Lewis lucrative work, passing along information for a sizable reward and Len could only hope that satisfied him enough to leave Lisa alone.

He was eventually paroled early, waiting outside the prison rhythmically clenching his hands and trying to keep his breathing even because he hadn't seen Lisa in three years. Had only her letters to let him know she even existed and he couldn't imagine all the things she'd kept hidden from him there. A familiar car pulled up. Only Lewis was inside.

After they'd gotten some distance from the prison, Len relayed the last set of information he'd been given. Lewis took it all in with a grunt and they remained silent for the remainder of the drive.

Lisa was waiting in the hall when they arrived, trying not to fidget, trying not to smile too brightly, trying to keep from staring at Len because she'd charge at him and cry and make Lewis mad. "Dinner's on the stove," she said around a brittle smile. Twelve years old and fearing for her safety, it made Len's heart break. Lewis grunted at her, pushed by without hardly noticing she was there. As they heard their father clattering about in the kitchen, the two snuck upstairs and into Len's room where Lisa launched herself at him with a muffled sob, holding him like she was afraid to let go. "I'm so glad you're back!"

He noticed the bandage on her shoulder, the mess of tape just peeking out from under her collar. He tried to tell her he was sorry, that he hadn't abandoned her, had done what he could to get out quick but his throat closed up on him. Eventually he managed, "You've gotten so big," in a voice full of wonder.

"So've you." She poked at Len's side where there was hardly any give.

He snorted, "Not a lot to do on the inside." He had to protect himself and getting the strength to put up a fight had been part of it. He drew them to his bed where Len arranged his little sister's gangly legs across his lap as best he could and he asked her what Lewis had done to her, how she'd been hurt. She swore that she'd only gotten scars and bruises and though she'd been easy to read before, three years under an abusive parent made Len second guess what he once knew was honesty in her expression. He could only hope he was being overly paranoid.

Even though she'd written about it in her letters, Len asked her about skating. He loved the way her face lit up and her voice got warm, the level of detail she gave recounting what she'd done, what she'd learned, what she found she was capable of. She'd always loved ice skating- they both did -but the camp had turned it into a passion.

Her hand tightened against his shirt. "Do you think I'll be good enough to compete?"

Len pressed a kiss against her hair. "If that's what you want to do, I'll do everything I can to make sure you get that chance."

~*~*~*~

It didn't take long for Len to get back in the game, his parole officer came from the same school of policing as Lewis did and a small stack of high denominations ensured she told the state what a model citizen Len was becoming. He called up his old connections, letting them know he was available and waited for the highest bidders for his services to call in. It never took long.

Despite taking a majority cut of all of Len's jobs, he and Lewis didn't often work together. Occasionally Lewis would shove a promising score in Len's lap, forcing his boy onto his crew but they were no longer in the same weight class. While Lewis was stuck with petty thievery, Len had graduated to the big times, sought after by names even Lewis didn't want to mess with. It came with a price, though. When he realized beating his son- his main avenue of intimidation -would bring unhappy criminals to his door, Lewis kicked him out of the house which in and of itself wasn't a bad thing.

But Lisa had to stay behind.

"If she made me happy," Lewis's smile was all teeth and Len couldn't see her but he could hear Lisa's quiet sobs from somewhere in the house, "she wouldn't have to get hurt. If _you_ make me happy, I might not be so disappointed in her."

Keeping Lewis happy meant giving him enough money Len could barely survive on his own. Working enough jobs to keep him happy meant Len couldn't take Lisa and skip out of town or make sure she was safe at all times. Finding someone to protect her meant allowing someone else to see how vulnerable he really was.

Sending Lisa to skating camps was the best option he had. Not only did it take her out of the house for months at a time, she was genuinely an amazing skater. She placed well in competitions, she had coaches fighting to get her on their teams, she had a chance to get away from their father on her own skills.

Len was patient. Until she could make her escape, he could endure anything.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, Golden Boy."

Len didn't growl but the resulting sigh was the next best thing. "What is it, Rory?"

Len had a reputation that proceeded him. One of being cold, distant and anti-social. No one ever spoke to him outside of work, would make their plans to unwind right over his head.

All except, for some reason, Mick Rory who seemed to take great pleasure in annoying him. The rest of the crew seemed to have an awful lot to say about Mick and his brand of crazy- a blending of recklessness, wild mood swings and love of violence. Everyone that talked about him to Len always drew a comparison to Mick's personality and his obsession with fire in the same breath. "You comin' out and grabbing a drink with us?"

He crinkled his nose at Mick's cigarette, staring at it pointedly until the older man took it out of his mouth and snuffed out the ember between his fingers. The distasteful look didn't leave Len's expression but he answered anyway. "No. Just like always."

"What'dya spend your money on? You go nowhere, do nothing, do no _one_ and you stay in a flophouse. You the shittiest investor in history?"

Len shot him a glare, narrow and dangerous but Mick's grin just grew. He rumbled, pleased, "That's a good look for you. You've got a nice fire inside ya."

"Fire. Cute, coming from an arsonist." He sneered back.

"I know what I like."

He studied Mick's casual sprawl, trying to quell the irritation the older man seemed to so easily draw out. "Shouldn't you be preparing to vomit in a toilet?"

"Nah. You're more fun."

Just what he always wanted. The attention of an idiot. Len huffed and turned back to his paperwork, resolutely ignoring the way Mick's gaze weighed hot against his neck.

~*~*~*~

Between his work and his father and Lisa, Len rarely got a moment to himself. Rarely even got back to the closet of a room he shelled out ten bucks a day for. Often times he'd work until his head throbbed from exhaustion, too tired to even read. Sometimes he'd make it to the ragged couch that had been shoved into what the crew considered the dining area, sometimes he fell asleep on his plans. But he always woke up on the couch, boots off and a thin blanket over him. Maybe it was that cycle of constant work and worry until his head stopped holding thoughts that made Len take so long to realized what was going on. That made him realized the blanket he'd find on him always had the lingering smell of smoke or that Mick was the only one that either never asked him to clarify part of the plan or asked intelligent questions when he did.

The revelation caught Len right as he was rubbing his eyes, having seen a flash of broad shoulders and suspenders in the doorway for the fifth time that night. He was tired enough that a confrontation on half-formed thoughts seemed like a good idea. "Rory," he called out, stepping into the hall.

A doorway down, Mick leaned out of the kitchen. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

He held out a container of Chinese. "Having leftovers."

"I'm talking about your hovering."

Mick stepped out into the hall, arms spread and feet firmly on the floor. Len rolled his eyes, not attempting to hide his exasperation. "Don't be obtuse." Another revelation overtook the current one. "Why do you act dumb? Like you're wild and unhinged?"

"Same reason you don't show how smart you really are." Mick said, just before going back into the kitchen. But there was the shadow of a smile on his lips. Len followed after him, somehow feeling both more guarded and more relaxed at the observation.

"Why are you looking out for me?"

"'Cause you don't look out for yourself." Mick dumped the box's contents onto a plate, scraping the stragglers out with a pair of chopsticks. He stuck it in the microwave and said, "That big brain of yours won't do us much good if you don't take care of it."

"It's doing well enough."

"Could do better."

He studied Mick's back- the easy line of his shoulders, the curve of his neck -and it struck Len that Mick was being incredibly trusting of him at the moment. "Why do you care? You were hired as muscle," his tone wasn't accusatory or condescending, just genuinely curious, "you're not paid to take care of everyone."

"I'm not taking care of everyone." A plate of something with noodles and chicken was set in front of him. "Eat." Len wondered if that had been Mick's plan all along or if he just saw his opportunity and took it.

Then he stared at the chopsticks set down next to him. "Do we not have forks in this place?"

"You don't eat Chinese with a fork, Snart. That's just disrespectful." The younger man picked the utensil up, trying to figure out how to wrap his fingers around it. Mick sat down next to him, his own chopsticks in hand. "Like this."

Ten minutes and a hand cramp later, Mick got him a fork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song by Was (Not Was). What was supposed to be a brief examination of Len's childhood turned into this monstrous thing so the title source isn't the perfect fit it originally was. But whatever. I've been working on this for a while (obviously before "Marooned" tossed most of this out the window) but ColdWave week has a Wildcard day so I'm sticking this up for that. Rest of the chapters should come out sporadically through the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Len always encouraged Lisa to go to competitions outside Central despite that sometimes it cost him a small fortune to get her out there, the further and more often she got away from their father the better. Even if it also meant she was away from him, as well. But when there was a skating competition in town- and not a bigger one happening elsewhere -Len always made it a point to watch and he always had one gold foil rose. Lisa had yet to place any higher than third, but she never lost sight of her ultimate goal and he was proud of her.

Not like anyone else was coming to give her flowers anyway.

Len didn't know much about figure skating- he could rattle off moves but he didn't understand the intricacies of technique -but he loved watching Lisa move. Perhaps it was bias, but he always thought she was the most graceful skater on the ice. Something the judges apparently didn't agree with, giving her a score that wasn't exactly low but definitely wasn't one of her better ones. He made his way from the side of the rink to the competitor's hall, knowing she couldn't have been happy with the result.

He hadn't expected to find their father lurking around, leaving him instantly on guard. "What are you doing here?"

"What," Lewis's voice was barely even sarcastic, just flat disgusted, "a father can't even come to cheer on his darling daughter?"

"I know you're not here as support."

"I came to see how much money she'd make. Not that the pot's great to begin with, barely made me five grand."

Len's eyes narrowed. He didn't like where this conversation was potentially heading. "Why do you care? You're not the one paying for her lessons."

"She could be doing something actually useful. Like picking up the damn house."

No. This wasn't about keeping Lisa home. Lewis didn't even want her there. It was a threat, keeping her close at hand where Len couldn't protect her. "What do you want."

The edges of Lewis's lips curled into something resembling a smile. "$800. Now."

"I only have $250 on me." So much for taking Lisa out for a nice dinner. "The rest I can have ready tonight."

"Meet me at 10 at the house. And bring your little black book, there's some contacts of yours I need to get in touch with."

Len's jaw clenched, glaring at his father even as he dug out his wallet, folded bills tucked in his palm. Lewis snatched it away without a care, brazenly counting it out right there. Then he leaned forward to snarl in Len's face, "The only thing your sister is good at is being your collar." Then he stalked off, knocking Len to the side with his shoulder, leaving his son to stew in the hall.

~*~*~*~

It wasn't typical for Len to be in the hideout not working but there he was, slouched in a chair. He'd cut his visit with Lisa short, not wanting to infect her with his bad mood but now he had nothing to distract him from his dark thoughts. Which was why, when Mick asked him for the umpteenth time if he wanted to grab a drink with the others, he actually said yes.

It wasn't just the bad mood that had him agreeing, in all honesty. Since figuring out that Mick had been looking out for him, Len's curiosity had been piqued. He started putting himself into position to watch how the man worked on jobs and started paying attention to the way others dealt with and talked about him. It was quite informative if not just surprising how many of the crew seemed to be scared of the man. They considered him unstable, unpredictable- literally crazy. Len didn't see him that way. Granted he tended to get sidetracked whenever fire entered the picture but Mick was very much aware of what he was doing.

The thing about Mick, Len realized, was that he understood power. Not like so many others who thought it meant pure force or intimidation. He seemed to understand the flow of things, when he needed to be aggressive and when he needed to sit back. He didn't calculate the way Len did but Mick paid attention, could recognize when one plan of attack wouldn't work so he'd take another. Muscled through obstacles when he could, found workarounds when he couldn't. And when neither worked, he made for one helluva distraction so someone else could deal with the problem.

Like the tides, eroding rocks into pebbles-

No, like a fire. Like how a candle could take down an entire house, gradually consuming fuel until it got hot enough to burn through whatever it couldn't before. Mick could still be dangerous, he reminded himself, even when he seemed friendly. It was fascinating the way no one else seemed to get that.

He watched Mick with a Zippo cupped between his hands, just staring at the flame like it was telling him the answers to the universe. Maybe it did. Maybe it whispered to him the secret ways of fire, teaching him to mold his very life like the inferno he so obsessed over.

Maybe Len needed to watch his alcohol intake, his tolerance was apparently shit.

"What're you grinning at?"

He only caught the tail end of Mick's eyes flickering from him back to his lighter. "If I knew I'd be a third wheel, I would've just gone home."

It surprised him when Mick actually flicked the lighter shut. "Am I not giving you enough attention?" It sounded like a friendly tease though Len was momentarily distracted by the way he flicked the Zippo open, flipping it through his fingers like he didn't even notice he was doing it. Between that and his ability to use chopsticks, Len felt his manual dexterity was falling behind. He wondered how good Mick was at picking locks.

"Just wondering why you kept inviting me out."

"Even brainiacs need to unwind. You not having a good time?"

He didn't hold much opinion about the music, didn't care for all the conversation going on around him and the lighting was low enough patrons could ignore each other if they wanted. Len took another drink, Mick's focus on him making the beer warm in his belly. "It's not bad," he allowed.

Mick grinned like it was the best damn thing he'd heard all day. He clinked his bottle with Len's. "Good enough for me."

~*~*~*~

The call had come in the middle of a meeting which was worrying enough- there was only one person Len had given the number for the hideout to. When the person one the other line said they were from Central's Metro University Hospital, he didn't waste a breath explaining to his current boss where he was going. He even shelled out the cash for a cab without bothering to pick anyone's pocket first.

He stormed the hospital like he was ready to tear people apart. Something the staff was likely used to dealing with because the person behind the counter visibly steeled themselves upon seeing his approach. He halted at the counter, took a deep breath and said in a voice that was mostly steady, mostly tight, "I'm here to see Lisa Snart. I'm Leonard Snart, her emergency contact."

The desk nurse flipped through some pages before giving him a room and directions. He gave a strained 'thank you' before all but charging down the hall. In her assigned room Lisa looked miserable in the small bed. She was awake, nothing was hooked into her but there was a bandage above one eye, a stiffness to her posture that hinted at damaged ribs, a splint on two fingers of one hand and a cast on her leg. Upon seeing her brother, her chin quivered, "Lenny..."

He went to her side immediately, leaning over the safety railing to hug her tight. "What happened?"

"I fell down the stairs."

Lewis _threw_ her down the stairs. Len clenched his teeth and managed to stay fairly calm. It wasn't the first time but it still put a fury deep within him. "Why?"

He could feel Lisa rolling her eyes. "He's not creative. Like he ever really needs a reason."

But that wasn't all of it. Len pulled back just enough to look at his baby sister, her eyes focused on the cast. He put a hand to her knee and watched her wince and began to fear the worst. "What's wrong?"

In a tiny voice between oncoming sniffles Lisa said, "I broke my ankle bad. The doctor doesn't think it'll heal well enough for me to compete again." She barely got the last word out before sobs overtook her, gripping Len's jacket with more strength than he'd been expecting. She wailed into his shoulder and Len held her tight. Her dream, her best chance to escape their father had been brutally shattered.

"Never again," he whispered against her hair, furious tears stinging his eyes. "He doesn't get to hurt you ever again."

When he left the hospital there was no burning drive in Len anymore. All his fire had frozen, compacted, condensed into a crystallized ball of cold determination releasing an icy focus into his blood. He'd known for years that the world would never care for him or Lisa but it was only now that he had the strength to turn his back on the world.

~*~*~*~

"Boss ain't gonna like you doing outside work."

Len didn't bother to look up from his notes. "Boss thinks I shit gold, he won't care."

Mick chortled, slouching down in an open chair and idly looking over the blueprints. He smelled like smoke- like a wood fire rather than gas or cigarette. Len inhaled deeply. It was kind of nice. "So what is it?" Mick shifted a couple pages aside, catching the important words in Len's quick scrawl. "Small fry stuff, ain't it?"

"It's not a score, it's sabotage."

"For who?"

"My dad."

That got a non-committal 'hn' noise. "Plan on getting him put away for some time?"

"Indeed."

"Seems like you got it figured out," he crossed his arms, studying Len's profile, able to see where he kept the stress in his expression, the tightness in his eyes. "So what's the problem?"

"After. I'll have to take care of my sister but I don't have a place to keep her." The latest round of Lisa's medical bills nearly cleaned him out and Len sure as hell wasn't going to bring her into shelters with him. Nor was he ever staying in that house again. His grandfather's house, the one actually decent person in their entire fucked up family but Len couldn't see him in that place anymore. Just dents and cracks and the places where blood never quite got clean.

"I got a sleeper couch in my place. Ain't pretty but the mattress is clean." At Len's sidelong warning glare, Mick rolled his eyes. "Shit- you can stay there, too. Not interested in little girls anyway."

"No."

"You too proud to owe me, Snart? Not even for your sister?" Len's hand clenched into a fist before he could stop it and Mick just laughed at it. "You wanna pay me back for my hospitality, fine. When you strike out on your own, bring me along." Len turned to him, caution and disbelief warring with suspicion. "You think I haven't figured out your brain is bigger than this op? When you get bored of taking orders and figure your way outta here," Mick grinned, all teeth and wildfire, "I want in."

Len just stared at him, weighing options and possibilities in his head. He turned back to the plans but a weight had been lifted from his chest. "Fair enough."

~*~*~*~

Len moved into Mick's apartment the day before things went down though given all his possessions consisted of a suitcase of clothes and a hygiene bag, all it really meant was he was making sure the place was presentable enough for his sister to stay in. It wasn't.

He forced Mick to help him clean and Mick made up for it by cooking dinner. He was surprisingly good and far more willing to do so than Len which made divvying up chores fairly easy.

"Lisa likes smokers even less than me," he said, thoroughly tempted to just throw out the entire end table with the overflowing ashtray. He swept the ashes and spent butts into a garbage bag. "I wouldn't even pull a cigarette out around her if I were you."

"Yeah, well if either of you use up the hot water I'm throwing you both out," Mick grunted, chopping something up to throw in a pot of pasta sauce. The one clean place in the apartment was the kitchen where Mick had a damn mini-garden on one of the counters. Habit from growing up on a farm apparently. It was the first non-takeout, non-microwaveable meal Len had since he left home. He took one bite and thought he could definitely get used to this arrangement.

The next day Len brought in Lisa while Mick was running errands for their boss. She wrinkled her nose at the place and after Len pointed out what few rooms there were and set down her duffel of essentials, Lisa crutched her way to the small hall closet and went in, pulling the door closed tight behind her. It was something she did when she was half scared out of her mind, curl into a ball in some small, dark corner and pray no one would find her. Len made a mental note to have Mick bed down somewhere else for the night. Hopefully she'd be more willing to meet her new roommate tomorrow.

Len, meanwhile, puttered aimlessly around the apartment, trying to find things to keep his hands occupied, singing loud enough for Lisa to hear him all the while. Lewis had always got mad whenever he caught Len singing so he did it to reassure Lisa their father wasn't around. Eventually the door creaked open a sliver; she was calming down.

Unfortunately it wasn't much longer before he had to go. "I've got some work to do, I'll be back late tonight. Mick will be gone until tomorrow so make yourself comfortable."

A soft 'kay' was his answer and the door shut again. Len scowled to himself as he pulled on his jacket. He had everything set up so he didn't need to be there for his father to get arrested but he was going anyway. He had to make sure Lewis was gone no matter what.

~*~*~*~

Though he hadn't actually expected Lisa to tolerate Mick right off the bat it was still disappointing mainly because Len was constantly acting as both buffer and in-between for them. She eventually kicked the man out of his own room because having to stay in the front room where Mick came and went without warning made her incredibly high-strung. And, after attempting to share the sofa bed with Mick- who radiated heat like a furnace -and then the single with Lisa- who kicked in her sleep with her cast -Len resigned himself to the floor. It made for a rough first week until Mick threw a newly stolen air mattress at his head.

"Maybe you'll be less of a shit if you actually get some sleep," he snapped before grumbling something about Len's tossing keeping him up as well. Len didn't notice any deeper bags under Mick's eyes than usual but he let him have the excuse. It kept Len from dealing with the possibility that Mick had done something altruistic for him.

In terms of work very little had changed. Len was still masterminding for their boss and Mick was still the scary muscle. The only difference was someone made a comment about Len gaining a bodyguard. They exchanged glances and Mick shrugged like it didn't matter what they thought. And it really didn't. Though when someone made a blunt comment about Mick 'replacing the stick up Snart's ass', they both _stared_ until the offender shrank back, trying to excuse it as a joke. No further insinuations were made.

He did learn, however, from overheard conversation that Mick wasn't going out drinking as much as he used to. It made Len realize he didn't spend nearly as much time in working, either. Every day for the last few weeks they left together to get back to Mick's apartment where Lisa, having little else to do given the flights of stairs between her and the rest of the world, had taken to making dinner for the three of them. It was such an abrupt change in routine and yet was something so natural that Len hardly noticed it happening.

Out on the fire escape- because it was the closest to private space he had now -he wondered if he should be worried about that. He wondered why he wasn't already worried.

The cramped metal structure wasn't comfortable and the corner of the window sill dug into his shoulder but the view wasn't bad- alley it may be, it still had fairly decent sight of the street and there was a fence between the bottom and the sidewalk making for a good alternate escape route. Len felt he had a strong enough read on Mick by now to know that wasn't a lucky coincidence.

Somewhere behind him he heard arguing. Mick and Lisa bickered nearly everyday, usually over mundane shit. It had bothered Len at first, ready to jump in and force his co-worker to back down but he realized he didn't actually have to. Mick always managed to leave the argument first with a last cutting remark- though Lisa would throw something scathing at his retreating back and Len was surprised but grateful that Mick never responded -before the snipping got any worse than what she and Len got into.

He wondered if Mick was weak to women or just Lisa. That wouldn't have surprised him, really. Despite Lewis's best efforts to beat it out of her, she was incredibly strong willed.

The window rattled abruptly and Mick managed to fold himself through and onto the fire escape. "The hell is it with your family and smokers?" Mick snapped around the unlit cigarette in his mouth, lighting up his Zippo with an easy flick. He'd gotten used to making sure Len wasn't around when he smoked, but if Lisa kicked him out of his own damn apartment every time he lit up, Len supposed he could deal with Mick smoking on the fire escape.

Len crinkled his nose, mouth curling in disgust but the two of them were perfectly fine coexisting in silence. Len weighed options in his head, watching the way Mick held his cigarette as far from Len as the tiny space allowed, subtly trying to keep the smoke from going his way. He stared out at the street for a moment before pulling the hem of his shirt up one side, surprising the older man, "These look familiar?"

They were faded with age but Mick's eyes widened immediately, recognizing the little circular burn marks pocked over Len's ribs. He inhaled sharply and choked on smoke. "Jesus Christ, Snart!" The burn in his lungs made Mick's eyes water, stabbing his cigarette out on the railing.

The memories left Len's jaw and voice tight, pulling his shirt down again. "She's got her own set."

He tried to pretend that that night didn't mean anything, that it changed nothing but Len noticed all the same that Mick didn't smell like cigarette smoke after that.

~*~*~*~

If asked Len would say he never put much stock into things like 'gut instinct'. Intuition, sure- things tended toward a pattern, analyze those patterns enough and you have a pretty good idea of what to expect. But when people said things like 'going by feel' it sounded to him like they just did it on a whim. Besides in Len's experience 'hunches' and 'six sense' crap tended to stem from subconscious observations that were obvious after the fact.

It was what made him, at the last moment, decide to join the group going to intimidate some upstarts trying to sneak in on their territory. Because over the passed near month Mick had been growing increasingly snappish and bad tempered, drinking more, quicker to fist his hands and just display all the bad habits that made Lisa hide in her room at the apartment whenever he was there. If it weren't for the fact that Mick seemed to recognize this, staying out sometimes for days and having the decency to look miserable and apologetic every time he made Lisa leave the room, Len would've taken his sister and left within the first week.

Then the night before Len stood in the hall for- and he timed it -five minutes, watching Mick in front of the stove, just watching a lit burner. It made him remember what he'd been told about the man when they first met- that Mick was an arsonist, a pyromaniac, that he was obsessed with fire and unstable. It made Len think about the callouses on Mick's hands, the thick patches of skin like they'd been held over heat, the rough pad of his thumb from constantly flicking at a lighter. It was funny how only _now_ Mick's control broke. Except for the part where he was being sent into a potentially dangerous situation with zero focus. If Mick went completely off the rails it could do serious damage to the operation and possibly himself. So Len told himself when he made some flippant excuse to join. When Mick barely acknowledged him, his resolve hardened.

His being there was absolutely extraneous, the show of muscle overkill before he jumped on and no one was taking the job seriously. They took two cars, Mick fitting himself into the only empty space in a beat-up dark gray sedan and forcing Len- who had no pull with the enforcer crew -to get shoved in the backseat of the even smaller car. He heard the wheel man mumble to the person in shotgun that Len and Mick must have broken up. He rolled his eyes but stayed unassuming and quiet for the trip.

Everything was over practically from the moment they pulled up to the building, a semi-abandoned storefront that looked like it should've been condemned years ago. The enforcers charged in, firearms pulled and shouting curses and orders at the tweaked out kids they herded into a corner. Len stayed in the back, his own pistol in hand but not expecting to use it. He only kept half an eye on the proceedings, the other half on Mick.

Mick loved playing the violent, unhinged thug. He thought it was hilarious the way people danced away from him, hands up and stuttering like they didn't know what might set him off while he spat fire from a toothy, wild grin. But he wasn't like that today. His eyes weren't bright with anticipation, there was no raucous laughter, no playing attack dog pulling at his leash to be let off. Instead he prowled, quiet except for the heavy tread of his boots and growl in his throat like something was trying to fight its way out of his skin. He stared wildly, hands flexing, chest heaving, desperately looking for an excuse to let loose. How did no one else see this? How could the others turn their backs on Mick like he wasn't a starving predator looking for a weakness in his cage?

It was Len's preoccupation with Mick and the others' with tormenting the kids that caused everything to go to shit. No one was watching the back entrance, no one realizing they'd missed one until a Molotov cocktail came sailing in from the back, cracking against one of the enforcer's backs, dousing him in flames. He shrieked, ran blindly into a wall, a counter, his flailing spreading the fire while everyone scrambled to get away.

All except for Mick.

One of the punks had the misfortune of running into him as she backpedaled and his hand clamped down on her shoulder like a reflex. She screamed, so desperate to run Len was certain she'd dislocate her arm. But Mick kept staring at the fire, even when the poor bastard's ragged cries grew lost under the sick crackle, finally collapsing by a shelf that quickly went ablaze. Above them the sprinkler system rattled, hissing out more rust than water, utterly useless.

Mick took a step forward and the kid screamed louder, too panicked to do more than strike him randomly. He took another step, snapping Len into action. "Rory!" The fire was getting bigger, starting to eat at the torn surface of the wall. "What are you doing, we have to get out of here!" Mick didn't respond. Kept staring like the fire was the most magnificent thing in the entire universe. "We have to _go_!"

Mick tugged at his captive, holding her before him like she was an offering. Her screams turned to sobs and Len stepped up next to him, holding his pistol against the side of his head.

He didn't know if it was the pressure or the cool metal of the gun that made Mick suck in a breath. He slowly turned to Len, the impression of the muzzle a pale ring right below the temple. His pupils contracted, firelight making his eyes glow an eerie orange, making them look waxy. "Yeah, buddy?" There was something unnerving in Mick's voice, like he was talking from somewhere far away.

"Let her go."

"Wanna watch 'em burn."

"Dead body's going to give us enough trouble as it is. We don't need it compounded."

Mick turned back to the fire, hand tightening on the punk as she whimpered. "But it's beautiful."

Len could feel the situation slipping from him. "Rory, we have to go. Fire alarm's gone off, fire department and police will be crawling all over here in less than two minutes."

"They'll kill it."

"They'll kill _us_!"

Mick just stared at the fire.

" _Mick_!" He jabbed the gun hard against Mick's head again, hard enough to make him flinch. Len didn't know what exactly got through to him but the other man managed to turn away from the fire, dropping his captive. The punk scrambled away on wobbly legs and Len, not knowing what else to do, daringly grabbed Mick's arm. "We have to go."

"Yeah," he hunched his shoulders against the fire like he was trying to shield it from view. His voice was weak and reluctant. "Okay."

It was slow going leading Mick out of the building, like he'd forgotten how to walk but he didn't fight Len. Which was good because Len wasn't exactly certain he could take on a man of Mick's size. Through the grace of having studied the layout of the building and block on the way in, Len lead them out a side window, far from the fire and anyone that stopped to watch. There were a number of safehouses in the area but Len bypassed the two closest ones and took Mick to the third, far enough to take them out of immediate suspicion range of the fire but close enough not many if any people would see them. He picked the lock on the door just as easily as turning the knob, ushering his companion in. Len kept the lights off- the place was sparsely furnished -and Mick made a straight line for the window, finding the one that had the best view of smoke in the distance. It would take time before the authorities dispersed and Len checked in at the liar over the phone. He debated on checking in with Lisa but decided against it, not wanting the call to come up on record.

When he finally turned back to Mick he was still huddled by the window, hands fidgeting like they were missing something. Len's eyes narrowed. "What happened to your lighter?"

Mick's hands froze. He said nothing but the picture became clear to Len anyway.

"You stopped smoking."

Mick grunted.

"Did smoking help?"

"A little."

"If it did, keep doing it."

"No." Mick turned his back further on Len which made him look smaller and more miserable, especially paired with that sullen tone. "I don't want to remind either of you of your dad."

"You might want to work on your recent attitude, then." The tone was mild despite the words. It made Mick's shoulders hunch more anyway. "What helps?" When Mick looked over his shoulder, even in the dark with a sliver of his profile visible, Len could see the distrust, the hesitance, the _hopelessness_ in his expression. He couldn't stand looking at it. "What keeps it from getting this bad? The lighter doesn't bother us."

"Fuel ran out," it came out almost as a murmur. "Never picked up a new one," because he'd stopped smoking, Len guessed.

"So get one. Or several. Better than you standing in front of a stove. What about when you burn yourself?"

Mick's eyes widened slightly and his arms shifted- Len guessed he was holding his arm where he'd caught glimpses of old burns before. He'd thought, after hearing how Mick had been in and out of foster homes as a kid, he'd gotten them for the same reason Len had his. But now the truth was obvious.

"The heat helps. Makes things... real. When I start actually burning myself, it's getting bad."

"What happens when it gets bad?"

"The fire calls me. It's like an itch in my brain. It's never warm enough, never bright enough, not _alive_ enough and I..." Mick bit his lip and turned away again. He'd never been great with words, especially when he was trembling because he couldn't get what he needed.

They fell into an uneasy silence, Len listening to the sirens come and go, listening to Mick shuffling and trying to keep himself from falling apart. Hours passed and Mick eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Len left, lifted a wallet off some drunk bastard stumbling his away toward a strip joint and into a gas station where he picked up various items. On the way back he broke into an auto store, snagging a car fire extinguisher.

It was barely passed midnight when he got back to the safehouse, nudging Mick none-too-gently with an elbow. It didn't take much to wake him, eyes sunken and exhausted in the dark. He saw the bags in Len's hands but Len only said, "Get up," before moving away. Completely lost, Mick followed without complaint.

All the buildings in that area of town were shitholes, it didn't take long to find an abandoned one. Judging from the trash left over, it was likely cleared out of vagrants earlier that night. Len dumped the contents of the bag on the floor and heard Mick suck in a breath behind him. Len didn't know much about fires but he knew enough to make a Young Arsonist Starter Kit. The fire extinguisher he picked up, tucking it under an arm as he said, "Go for it. Make it as big and bright as you want, but if it starts getting out of control, I'm stopping it. The second I hear sirens, I'm dragging you out. If you fight me on either counts, I'll leave your ass here and we're done. Got it?"

"I... what..."

"I got you a pack of lighters. If you don't like them, get your own set. I don't want your problem getting this bad again. Do what you can to control it and if playing with lighters helps, do it. If you need to burn something then tell me. I'll be there to make sure it doesn't get out of hand."

Mick was staring at him in a way no one had since Lisa when he first came back from prison. Like he was some kind of savior. It made something twist indescribably in his stomach. "Well?"

Slowly, as if this was something Len could take back on a whim, Mick knelt. He grabbed one lighter- picking out a favorite already, judging by the way his fingers caressed the colored plastic -and shoved the rest in his pockets. Then he shifted through the flammables, seeing what he had to work with before looking up at Len with a grin that made him jolt. "This is gonna be beautiful."

~*~*~*~

Mick mellowed out after that, like all that tension and pressure had never been there. Lisa still walked on eggshells around him but that didn't keep her from cornering Len one day, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as she asked, "What happened? You fuck him?"

It was abrupt enough that Len couldn't guard his expression, affronted. "What- no!"

She studied him still, unconvinced. But she sniffed and nodded, "Good," and continued to give Mick the cold shoulder for another two days before easing up again.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd been sitting at a bench in the park as lawfully as any other citizen- with the except of jotting down timings for an upcoming heist around the margins of a crossword puzzle -when a couple of cops approached him. "Leonard Snart?" They asked, making it apparent they were fully aware of who he was.

"Officers."

"We're taking you in for questioning."

Len's eyebrows came down, folding his newspaper and sitting up from his slouch. "What for?"

"You're under suspicion of bribing a public official."

The color drained from his cheeks. His parole officer got caught. _He_ was caught. Unable to think of any excuse or a way to escape, Len had no choice but to follow them. At the police station he was given a phone to call a lawyer. Len thought about his chances of getting out of this, about Lisa's physical therapy and how he couldn't pay any fines or fees, about the fact that he would be stuck in Iron Heights with his father and instead called Lisa.

Needless to say the conversation didn't go very well. Eventually Len had to say over her increasingly hysterical questions, "Keep an eye on Rory, I'll try to be back soon. Love you, Lise." As the phone was taken away from him, Len sat back, expression a cool poker face as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this.

A little less than an hour later a man in a suit came up to the desk and introduced himself as Len's lawyer. A little less than an hour after that Len somehow found himself back outside the station.

He took one shaky step down the stairs, air rattling in his lungs as he tried to make sense of how he was still free. Then another and it occurred to him that he did not want to try to untangle recent events on the police's literal doorstep and made his nonchalantly speedy way down the block. At the first intersection he saw, pacing up and down the parking lot kitty corner from him, Mick sucking on a cigarette. Len called out, still reeling from what happened, "I thought you quit."

Mick whirled around, staring at Len for a heartbeat and ripped the half-smoked cigarette from his mouth, tossing it on the ground without looking back. Len wondered how many other butts littering the place had been because of him. "Christ, Snart! You gave me a scare!"

"Smoking isn't good for your heart."

"Not that, jackass!" Once Len was on his side of the street he strode up and pulled the younger man into a hug before Len realized what was going on. Before he could react, Mick was back out of reach. "Can't believe that guy talked you outta there. Worth every penny."

That sent Len reeling all over again. " _You_ paid for that lawyer?"

"Don't be grateful or nothing."

"I didn't ask you to do that!"

"You didn't see your sister freaking out about this, either."

That shut him up. Nothing got to Len more than Lisa being upset. "And the fine?"

"That was me, too."

"Mick," his voice was tight, "I can't pay you back for all that."

Mick just shrugged like it didn't matter, turning to head down the block. "Not right now, but you could do it in installments. Give me a percentage of your cuts or whatever." He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "You coming or not?"

"Why."

"You wanna stay with the cops, you're gonna have to pay me back up front."

"No- why would you spend so much money to help me out? Why do you _care_?"

Mick snorted, "You and your sister been staying at my place for damn near two months and _now_ you're asking why I'm putting up with you?"

" _Yes_."

He turned, feet squared and expression hard like he was itching for a fight. "Because right now my life is shit. I do shit work for shit pay and I keep doing how I've been, it's never gonna change. Then you enter the picture with all your clever ideas and fancy plans. You're my ticket outta here, Snart. Like hell I'm letting anyone take you from me."

That made something in Len's gut twist in a way that might've been a warning or not. "You have an awful lot of faith in me."

"I'm not smart but I'm not stupid. I watch and I listen. You're going places and I plan on being there with you. Besides," he grinned, teeth flashing crookedly, "things'll be more interesting with you out here than in the clink."

Well, he couldn't argue with that.

When they got back to the apartment Mick called, "Brought your stupid brother back!"

The door of the hall closet tore open and Lisa limped to over to him as fast as her healing ankle would allow. She slammed the heel of her palm against his shoulder. "You idiot! Don't you ever give up on me like that again!" Then she pulled her brother into a hug and tried not to sniffle into his chest.

Despite the elation of Len staying out of prison the mood for the rest of the day was understated. Lisa acted as Len's barnacle, leaving Mick to make dinner and the three stayed on the couch watching crappy tv from the cable they were stealing from one of Mick's neighbors. Eventually Mick kicked the siblings off his bed so he could turn in for the night.

In their own room, after the lights were turned off and Len had settled in his air mattress, Lisa's voice came softly in the dark, "Len, come up here." He could barely see the shadow of her hand patting the sliver of open space next to her.

Len sighed but did what she said, letting Lisa snuggle up to his side before saying, "I'm not sleeping here."

"I don't have the cast anymore."

"Doesn't change the fact that you kick."

They both huffed at each other and before too long Len found his eyelids sliding closed despite himself. "Lenny?" Lisa's words were soft, an almost slur.

"Hm."

"Rory seems to like you an awful lot."

"Hm."

"He wants something from you."

"He thinks I can get him a better gig."

"That's not it."

Len cracked his eyes open, slowly turning to Lisa though the angle of her head meant all her could see was her nose and hair. "That's all he's getting."

She hummed and curled her arms around Len's like it was a stuffed doll keeping her company. "We'll see." Then, "He's not a bad guy."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "No. He's not." They both fell asleep. The next morning, when Mick asked why Len was limping, Len told him to fuck off.

~*~*~*~

Maybe that incident was a catalyst. Maybe it was Lisa's words and Len analyzing his relationship with Mick. Regardless, Len was starting to feel stifled in his current work. The boss was taking Len and the other lieutenants for granted, leaving them to run everything while still reaping all the profit. More and more often Len kept finding his thoughts wandering off to other possibilities. Fresh ones. New starts in new cities. He'd been out of Central a handful of times but rarely more than one city over. Lisa, though, she loved traveling. She'd been starting to complain about staying in one place for too long- not just Mick's small apartment, but Central in general. It always made Len wonder what opportunities there were further away, maybe out of Missouri altogether.

Every time he wondered if Mick would be willing to leave the state, Len forcibly ended his idle thoughts. No. He may have promised better work for Mick, but if he really wanted it, he'd have to follow wherever Len went.

So he worked on his plan, idly at first, getting a feel for the idea until he found one he liked in particular. As it started forming he ensured it could be done with or without Mick's involvement. And if he got lost in thought more often, caught himself staring at Mick's sturdy shoulders and broad back, had to keep himself from leaning in to hear the low rumble of his voice, that was entirely in people's imagination and Lisa could stop nudging his side with a terse, "Just ask him!"

He had much more important things to do. Like do the work he was actually being paid to do. Even if it was starting to get tedious because his employer seemed to no longer be interested in expanding territory, focusing more and more on pushing drugs which Len stayed emphatically away from. Seemed more inclined to _taking_ the drugs he was pushing but really- gave Len less oversight to plan what he was doing.

Slips of paper were slapped down next to the notepad he was writing on. "Here." Mick crossed his arms. "Happy birthday."

Len's eyes flickered at his gift briefly before turning slowly to look at it. "What is this?"

"Tickets. Thought you were the smart one." When all Len did was shift each ticket around so he could see all three, Mick went on. "Combines are hosting the Opal City Corsairs. Lisa told me you used to play little league or whatever. Seen you reading up on the sports section, figured you still liked watching. I actually bought these things legit, so you better enjoy it."

"The Combines have been terrible this year."

"Yeah, they were practically giving away seats." Seeing the faint smile shadowing Len's expression, Mick's shoulders relaxed. "Personally, I just wanna watch 'em fight."

~*~*~*~

Unsurprisingly the Combines were slaughtered but they'd at least managed to score one goal in a move impressive enough it even got Len on his feet cheering. There were also eight fights, one of which resulted in someone leaving the ice holding their nose so even Mick hadn't been entirely bored.

Afterward the three of them went to a bar. One of Len's choosing as Mick's tended toward the louder, rowdier side which was a definite no with Lisa around. Her big brother may have gotten her a fake ID but that didn't mean he'd let her go to just any hole in the wall.

"You know I've never actually been to a bar before?" Lisa said after they'd gotten their first round. She occasionally drank with them at the apartment though Lisa preferred various types of highballs to the lagers or stouts Len and Mick, respectively, favored.

"Yeah?" Mick spread his arms across the back of their booth, making himself a big, undeniable presence to the couple sets of eyes that kept straying towards the younger Snart. "Let's make it a party, then. Whatever you want, Len's paying."

Lisa snorted into her rum and Coke while Len shot him a dry look. "I'm fairly certain common practice is someone _other_ than the birthday boy picks up the bill."

"I already got you a present and unless you want your sweet little sister paying for all these drinks..."

Lisa batted her eyelashes and pouted. Mick just grinned. Len sighed. "Make your drinks count, maximum is five each."

In the end Lisa only used up three and Len two. He refused to let Mick pick up the slack. "I'm not making Lisa sit here and watch you drink."

"Yeah," she was leaning heavily on her brother's shoulder, eyes barely open. "C'n watch you drink at home." She snorted in the middle of a giggling fit.

Mick stood, slightly wobbly but steady once he was on his feet. "Alright, that's definitely the 'go home' cue." If she drank much more after she started snorting, Lisa was pretty much guaranteed to puke. He took Lisa by the arm and guided her outside while Len settled the bill.

The air had a crispness that helped clear Len's head when he stepped out, just in time to hear Lisa whisper conspiratorially and loudly to Mick, "Did'ja know Lenny wanted to be a zamboni driver?"

"A what?"

"'S the thing. Smooths the ice b'tween periods."

Mick laughed loudly and Len rolled his eyes. "I was a kid," was the only defense he made.

"I can't imagine it." Mick was pretty certain he'd never seen Len behind the wheel of anything.

"Now that my treacherous sister is done spilling all the sordid secrets of my childhood," he drawled, "shall we get going?" It wasn't a long walk back to the apartment though given how steady Lisa was looking it might take a while. When she wobbled for the third time in two blocks, Len stood in front of her, "You just want me to carry you, don't you?"

"Noooo," she wobbled again, this time falling against Mick's shoulder. "I want Mick to carry me!"

" _He's_ the one offering to be your pack mule," the man complained.

"I c'n get a ride from Lenny any time," Lisa was determined to get on Mick's back, already clamoring on with or without his permission. He sighed and stooped over to make it a little easier on her. "You hav'n carried me yet!"

"Because you already have a pack mule." Mick tucked her legs under his arms, giving her a little bounce to get higher up on his back. Len took off his jacket and put it on his sister's shoulders.

Lisa latched on automatically. She always got cold when she was drunk. They made it another block before Len asked, "So? Who's the better drunk carrier?"

"Mick." Said winner grinned triumphantly while Len muttered 'blasphemy'. "'S like a big, bald teddy bear heater." Lisa buried her face between his shoulder blades, words slurring and nearly inaudible. "No wonder Lenny likes you."

"Aw," Mick flashed his teeth in a grin, "you like me."

"Like a big, bald teddy bear fungus." But there was a fondness in Len's tone that likely wouldn't have been in there were he entirely sober. He looked at his sister; between his jacket and Mick's broad shoulders the only thing betraying her presence were her legs, a few wild strands of hair and her soft snoring. Len shook his head before admitting, "I'm glad she's warmed up to you."

"It causes you physical pain not to make puns, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, looking momentarily younger than he was. "Resisting temptation isn't exactly my strong suit."

"Stronger than you'd think."

"Probably only when I shouldn't be."

There was a decidedly not-unpleasant shiver as he caught Mick' sidelong glance and he wondered if they were not-talking about the same thing.

"Lenny," the fact Lisa was still talking- albeit in her sleep from the sounds of it -was surprising, "should ask 'im..."

"Ask what?"

Len turned to look ahead of them, just so he wouldn't be looking at Mick. "I've been thinking... city's feeling a little small. Might head out, see how things are done in other cities. Maybe other states." He cast a sideways look at the other man, feeling oddly vulnerable. "You're welcome to join us if you want."

Mick shrugged and Lisa made a discontent noise at the movement. "Sure."

"Not going to get homesick, are you?"

"Came from outside Keystone. Central is... as close to home as I ever plan to get."

"Why's that?"

He cast Len a sidelong look. "It's gonna take more than five beers for me to spill that story." Though he was grinning there was something sad in Mick's expression. Len figured it best to drop it. For now. "So does this make us travel buddies now?"

"We haven't gone anywhere yet. But I suppose we should just make it official and call ourselves partners."

"Partners," Mick rolled the word around in his mouth, stretching it out like a comfortable jacket, grinning when he found it to his liking. "I like that."

Len was surprised at how much he did, too.

~*~*~*~

There was a clock in the back of Len's mind. One that he couldn't break. One he didn't want to break no matter how much he _actually_ wanted to. One that counted down to Lewis's newest release date. He had gained so much for himself- power, reputation, knowledge -in the years but at the same time each second was a countdown to the moment it would all be taken away from him. The moment he'd go from veteran criminal back to that little boy carefully navigating the minefield surrounding his father.

In the days when he wasn't planning the weight of Lewis's inevitable release almost felt like suffocation, made all the more real when parole hearing dates went from years to months to weeks. Len obsessed over it because he couldn't let something like the first time happen again, he would never let Lisa out of his sight if Lewis could get free, even as he knew she was fully capable of watching her own back. Sometimes he even thought about warning Mick or set him up to watch Lisa's back. That fact his new partner kept slipping into mind was frustrating.

"Anyone ever tell you how damn loud your thoughts are?"

"No," though Len's words were a long drawl, there was a shortness to them, "tell me."

"Just did, but in case you didn't hear- stop thinking so loud."

"You're welcome to take your exceedingly helpful observations elsewhere," he glared as Mick made a show of plopping down on the cushion next to him.

"Also free to keep them right here where I've gotten comfortable." Mick gave him a smug, shit-eating grin that said if Len wanted something done- in this case, leaving -he'd have to do it himself. "So you may as well tell me."

"Figured you knew since my thoughts are apparently loud."

"Maybe I just like the sound of your voice."

Len stared at him, trying to decide how serious he should be taking that. Mick took care of that by saying, "I know you sure as hell do."

He snorted. "You're doing an impressive job of making me want to explain my thoughts to you."

"I know. So start talking."

Len huffed and went for broke, "My father's parole hearing is coming up."

"And?" Mick just watched him, not pushing but not exactly understanding. He didn't know the Snart family's full story- Len offered to exchange it for Mick's own history and while Mick agreed and both were willing to make good on the deal, neither were in a particular hurry either -but he could read between the lines. "You think he'll actually be paroled?"

"The possibility is there."

"So do something about it." When Len leveled a 'why do you think I've been thinking so loud' glare at him, Mick shifted in his seat and told him, "I don't know much about your old man," they'd been in different blocks the last time Mick had been locked up, "but I know you always get tangled up when it comes to him. You don't think as clear as you usually do. If there's no way to keep him from getting out from _this_ side of the bars..."

Something sparked in Len's brain, "...find someone on the other side to fuck up his chances."

"He's been locked up for a long time. You know he's had to have made enemies. _Someone_ in there would jump at a chance to screw him over."

With that, ideas and plans starting flowing through Len's head, the tension of his perceived helplessness going out in a rush. Privately he'd long considered Mick an understated genius. For all his own flaws and hang-ups, Len had never seen anyone get as good a read on people as quickly as Mick did.

A thought suddenly occurred to him- likely a long overdue one but then Len did have a tendency of getting caught up in his own head.

And Mick was very good at drawing him out.

The way Len was suddenly looking at him unnerved Mick. It was intense but not like it normally was, all pinpoint precision that could pick out anything he was looking for. This was like a drill, boring through Mick's skull and digging through his head, trying to find something Len didn't like.

Mick wasn't certain if Len found whatever that might have been but he spoke up anyway and though the drawl was familiar, the intensity that had been in his gaze had seeped into his voice. "I want you to promise me something."

Mick eyed him warily. "What?"

"If it comes down to me or the job, finish the job."

The wariness increased. Though Mick couldn't deny that would be the smart thing to do, he'd also thought their partnership had grown beyond greed trumping loyalty. "Why?"

"It's not complicated. Whatever we're after- an antique, money, some fancy, overpriced bauble -you make sure you take off with it and stash it some place safe no matter what happens." Some place Lewis would never be able to get his hands on Len's hard work. Never, ever again. "Even if it means leaving me to get snatched. Of course I'm also expecting you to bust me out the first chance you get given I foresee this being a lucrative partnership."

Mick wasn't buying it. "What're you trying to prepare me for, Snart?"

"Inevitability." Came the smooth, too-quick reply. "Because if it comes to you or the job, that's what I'm going to do."

He studied Len, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. "I got a better idea. How 'bout you make it so I don't have to choose between the two."

"Sacrificing my crew- especially myself -isn't my style. But if the situation arises..."

"You better come for me or I'm burning the damn city to the ground," was what Mick said but his expression twisted the words into 'I'll burn everything until I find you'.

Len's shoulders relaxed, looking more like himself as he smirked back. "I wouldn't expect any less."

~*~*~*~

Len and Lisa held their breathes as Lewis's hearing drew closer- one week, four days, two days, tomorrow -and the next day, with Lisa's nails digging into his arm, he called the V.I.N.E. number to get the results. After hanging up the phone, Len told Lisa, "Guess it pays knowing who hates who and who to bribe." He couldn't keep the relieved grin from his face.

Lisa readjusted her grip to hug Len's arm, bracing her forehead against his shoulder with a half-sigh, half-sob. To celebrate the good news, Len actually cooked dinner for the three of them. Nothing too fancy, just a big pot of chili but he hadn't been in a kitchen with intent to cook since he moved out.

The only thing Mick had to say about it was making a light jab about Len trying to give him food poisoning. A couple spoonfuls later, Len- a bit more anxious than he was comfortable admitting to himself -asked how it was.

"Didn't know you even knew what a kitchen was, let alone making something passably edible."

Len raised an eyebrow, good mood settled securely around him. "Merely edible?"

"Not bad. Maybe even pretty good."

"Not many people I'm willing to cook for."

"Good to know I'm one of 'em."

"Please," Lisa interrupted, "you two are gonna put me off my appetite."

Then, buoyed by Lewis's continued incarceration, Len finalized his plan to strike out on his own. It took him less than a month and it was, to toot his own horn, a thing of beauty. It would allow him to smuggle a good portion of money straight out of his boss's accounts and break-up the gang's hold on the city which would make it easier for Len to get back into the game. If he decided to come back to the city at all.

Perhaps it could've been seen as overkill- the projected profit would be way too much for three people to spend, not without flaunting themselves to the entire world, anyway -but really, Len was just making sure he got what was owed to him. All at once. Besides, given the old adage about stealing from babies and the boss having surrounded himself with thieves and calling himself 'Candyman' on top of that was too ironic to pass up.

When he laid the plan out to Mick, he whistled low. "You're going all out on this guy."

"His fault for not seeing it coming. You in?"

"Yeah, buddy. I'm in."

"Just to ensure we're on the same page, here," he let his eyes drag deliberately up and down the length of Mick's body, comfortably sprawled on the couch. "You in all the way?"

Mick's grin turned hungry, stoking a fire low in Len's belly. "As far as you want me."

"Good." Len swung his leg over the couch, straddling Mick's lap just as his arms boxed him in. "Because resisting temptation isn't my strong suit."

Mick just grinned, "Took you long enough." He grabbed Len by the shirt and dragged him down for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little rushed at the end I think but I've been working on it since early Feb, I may have gotten a little sick of looking at it |D Thank goodness for ColdWave week being impetus for me to finish! And thank you for plowing through, I hope you enjoyed it!


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